Country Club Mag 7 ATF AU
by senorabutterfly
Summary: Ezra wins a bet and gets to choose the days activity. Been forgetting the disclaimer, so here's the notice that's probably not legally worth anything...don't own the characters and am not making any money. Idea and a quote come from Travis Tritt's song Country Club and the accompanying video. Be aware, I don't actually play golf! Also a 'no food or drink' warning might apply...


Country Club Mag 7 ATF AU

"I can't believe we're gonna spend the afternoon chasin' a little white ball over a bunch 'a mowed grass." mumbled Vin as he gave Ezra a dirty look. The seven ATF agents known as The Magnificent Seven were currently standing at the entrance to the local Country Club, all but two appearing rather reluctant to enter.

The southerner gave a chastising click of his tongue as he shook his head at the sniper.

"Now Mr. Tanner…a bet is a bet, and I won our little wager fair and square. The winner got to pick the day's activity, and I chose golf. Deal with it."

"We're out in the sunshine and fresh air, Vin. Thought you'd be pleased that Ezra at least picked something outdoors." added Josiah, who was the only other one besides the undercover agent to be thoroughly content with the plan.

"Could be huntin', fishin', playin' touch football or baseball, hell even shootin' at targets and still be outside, J'siah. I'd even volunteer to bushhog Chris' back forty over this." One slender hand waved emphatically to encompass the building they stood in front of and the well-manicured greens of the course that stretched to either side of their field of vision.

"Gotta admit, I don't see what the big deal is about hittin' an itty, bitty ball around…" started Buck. He trailed to a stop as his cobalt eyes lit on a couple of attractive thirty-something women walking up. Both smiled at him and one winked, causing the lanky figure to beam his best Wilmington grin at them as he used his thumb and forefinger to brush his mustache into its most attractive state.

Realizing he'd stopped mid-sentence, they lanky form continued, gaze still following the two curvy blondes. "Like I was sayin'…don't see anythin' wrong with spendin' a few hours relaxin' and swattin' a lil' ball around."

JD gawked at his roommate and then elbowed the taller brunet in the side. "That ain't what you were sayin' at all, Buck. Jeeze you see a pretty lady and you get all 'ugghh'." Dunne made waggling arm motions, his mouth gaping open to demonstrate what he meant.

Chris nodded in agreement. "Kid's right, Buck. You see a pretty woman and your brain drops below your belt." Wilmington's oldest friend gave the taller form a sly smile. "You forget what your sayin'…doin'…hell, what day it is!"

Buck just grinned. "Well Chris, ya gotta admit some 'a them fillies can flat make a man forget everythin' but his name. Remember those two twins with the blonde hair fallin' down their back? Those two looked even better walkin' away from a man than they did toward him. And as I recall you weren't lookin' the other way at the time either…" The blue gaze was still on the two women in front who were just disappearing into the door of the building.

One corner of Larabee's mouth curved up and the blond head just shook. JD's dark head mirrored the motion.

"You are so fulla crap, Buck."

Vin laughed out loud. "You just figurin' that out, Kid?"

The explosives expert ignored them and slapped Standish on the shoulder so hard he almost toppled the shorter man over.

"Come on, Ez! Let's get this shindig started."

Not waiting for the others, the long legs in fitted denim started purposefully toward the entrance doors in an attempt to get there before the pair of blondes disappeared.

Chris gave a smirk. "You can always count on Buck…if he catches up with those ladies we won't see him the rest of the day."

It was now Ezra's turn to shake his head. "You say that as if it's a bad thing, Mr. Larabee. I personally am relieved at the thought that I might not have to acknowledge that he belongs with my group." drawled the Southerner. The other men's appearance was something of a sore point with the gambler, but he knew he was lucky that he'd gotten all seven there at all. He was aware that Chris had discreetly gone around reminding the other five that Ezra had participated in many things that he wasn't crazy about just because it was a team…more like family…outing.

Buck and Vin had refused to wear anything but their jeans however, making them look distinctly out-of-place in the country club environs. At least both had grudgingly given up their cowboy boots, though they were each adamant that they weren't wearing any of those saddle oxford shoes with the little cleats on them. Ezra had reluctantly told them that they could just keep their tennis shoes on. Some players wore similar athletic shoes with spikes on them, so at least the two wouldn't look that out of place as far as footwear was concerned. And Wilmington had at least pulled out an old polo shirt he owned in deference to Ezra's delicate sensibilities, as opposed to Tanner who defiantly wore a cotton tee shirt with a black target symbol on the front. The sniper seemed unaware of the fact that the well-fitted garment made _him_ a target of several passing women's attention, out of place or not!

The rest had at least attempted not to embarrass the undercover agent too much, though Josiah's black and white plaid pants were a bit of an eye popper. The profiler was blissfully unaware…or uncaring… of the glances he was receiving, and had paired the slacks with a white polo shirt and appropriate cleated shoes. He was the only one of the group besides Standish that regularly, or ever, played golf. Though even he had to confess that the game was often a serious lesson in humility as far as he was concerned.

Nathan actually looked the most tasteful of the other six, sporting neat khaki pants and a dark green polo that was similar to the one Ezra himself wore. The medic wasn't exactly enthused with the day's planned activity, but he was at least keeping an open mind and was planning to give it his best shot.

JD looked as out of place as Buck and Vin, though he had agreed not to wear jeans. However, instead he had chosen long plaid shorts and a vibrant orange tee shirt with an electronics company logo across the front. With his Red Sox ball cap turned backward and his dark bangs hanging in his eyes under it, he looked more like a teenage skateboarder or something than a golfer. Ezra had his designer sunglasses on partly to protect him from the glare of the youngest member's clothing.

Standish was actually pleased with Larabee's choices, though they were of course a bit dark for his tastes. The team leader wore fitted ebony slacks and a silvery-gray, short-sleeved V-neck knit shirt with black jogging shoes with gray trim. A black ball cap worn the 'normal' way covered the dark gold hair and stylish Serengeti sunglasses in a dark hue protected him from the sun and hid the often imposing icy green gaze.

Chris had at least played golf a few times, mostly when acting as Ezra's 'boss' or 'buyer' for meetings with gun sellers who sometimes chose to think of themselves as legitimate members of upper-crust society and thought it impressed their contacts. And the leader did admit that golf courses were in some of the most attractive locations, so at least the scenery was good even if the game wasn't.

Ezra himself was clad in imminently suitable tan slacks and an emerald green polo shirt that brought out the color of his eyes, along with a pair of brown and tan oxford-style golf shoes and a green visor. Not exactly vain, he did know that the colors were attractive on him and he always tried to dress appropriately for whatever activity he was engaging in. Whether he liked it or not…and he sometimes didn't…his mother's maxim that appearances were everything was ingrained in his very DNA.

Deciding it was best to just get the afternoon over with, the remaining six members of Team Seven all took deep breaths and strode after Buck's departing figure. Even with the somewhat unorthodox attire of some of the group, the handsome men drew more than their share of attention as they walked abreast toward the doors.

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The seven were on the back nine some time later. They had actually made it through the previous holes relatively unscathed, much to Ezra's relief. At least all things considered.

Buck had done as expected and spent half of his time flirting with the two blondes that he'd introduced himself to, so he was unconcerned with his stance or score. In fact, he'd used the lack of expertise to advantage and had charmed the women into 'helping' him with his form. The taller of the ladies currently stood with her arms around Buck showing him how to hold his club, even though she had to peer around his shoulder to see the ball in front of them. The other stood close by, giving hints with a slightly seductive smile on her face.

Josiah had ended up in the rough or the sand more times than Ezra could even count, but the profiler had kept his grumbling and cussing to a minimum, simply looking upward and telling God that he had a mean sense of humor and mumbling about humility. Standish was concerned that the man's clubs were going end up looking like pretzels by the end of the game, though.

Nathan had discovered that he actually rather liked the game, and while not proficient at it yet, was at least not humiliating himself too bad. Besides with a partner like Sanchez, he had to look good by comparison he thought with a secret little smile as he watched the ex-preacher search among a small cluster of trees for his ball.

JD had been trying to stay focused and concentrate on learning the rules, but his attention kept wandering and he was currently sitting on a golf cart playing on his phone. He'd lost his grip on his club a couple of times and sent it flying in front of him once, coming closer to hitting the hole with it than with his ball. And once he'd not realized that Buck was behind him and almost hit the taller ladies' man between the legs. That produced a bit of an uproar from Wilmington, but fortunately no one but the two blonde women were close enough to hear the tall form's epithets and threats, and they just laughed and checked to make sure the good-looking figure was alright. The kid had gotten overly enthusiastic one time and hit his ball straight up into a tree, knocking a bewildered robin out of its nest and prompting Buck to say "Wow Kid, you got a birdy!"

Chris had actually done pretty well, his hand-eye coordination and ability to judge distances and trajectories when shooting aiding him with his golf game as well. Plus in spite of the lean appearance, he had excellent upper-body strength and control and was able to send his ball further than most on the long fairways, thus getting him closer to the hole in less strokes. Although he'd put a little _too_ much power into his swings a time or two, sending the ball beyond it's intended target. Vin had joked that Chris was going to do a first and make a hole in one on the wrong fairway, resulting in a mildly scorching glare from the hazel orbs of his partner. And once, Ezra had feared that the club the tall blond was using was going to end up in two pieces. Chris had finally given up on using the 'correct' club, and simply picked one he liked and stuck with it no matter what, thus leading to an improvement in both his score and his temper.

Ezra himself was in the lead of course, having played for years. Maude had procured lessons for him when he was a teenager in order to impress a prospective beau who was the owner of a country club. He'd considered asking if the others wanted to place wagers on the outcome of the game, but quickly realized they would all consider that a sucker bet and refuse. And his suggestion of bets on who sustained what injury had only resulted in him being flipped the bird, getting glared at, and Nathan holding up two fingers in a cross shape to ward off the jinx he was sure Standish had just put on them.

The chestnut-haired figure was currently watching the last member of their group as the sniper eyed the hole in front of him. Vin had ended up doing like Larabee and just picking a club and using it exclusively. He had the same advantages as Chris as far as ability to judge distances and trajectories, so was doing fairly well in spite of his unusual style. He didn't go through all the preliminaries that most golfers did. There were no practice swings or switching of his weight from one leg to the other, etc. The lithe form simply eyed his target, checked the wind, and then hit the ball. He had lost his grip once and the club went flying over his shoulder, barely missing beaning Chris on the head. The slim blond had murmured that he was going to get his gun if that happened again, so Tanner had been more careful from then on. Plus Chris had taken to sitting or standing by their golf cart just for safety's sake when it was Vin's turn.

The sharpshooter's ball rested only a few feet from the hole and he was currently crouched down eying the distance thoughtfully. Chris called a soft warning about not hitting too hard and overshooting his target. The sandy head nodded in understanding. Then to Ezra's astonishment and chagrin, and Chris' amusement, Vin picked up his club and turned it backward. Using the handle like a pool cue, he sighted on the hole and then gave the ball a gentle tap with the top. The ball rolled perfectly straight and plopped into the opening with an audible clink. Chris touched the bill of his cap to the sniper with a finger, signaling his approval and respect. Buck had removed his attention from the ladies long enough to see the action and he began clapping enthusiastically. He was quickly joined by JD and Nathan. Josiah rumbled something about maybe he should try that next time, while Ezra stood in open-mouthed shock.

"Mr. Tanner!" sputtered the gambler eventually. "This is not billiards!"

"Too bad Ez, 'cause that was kinda fun." answered Vin with a big grin as he rose to his feet. The blue gaze then went to Larabee. "Whadda ya think, Cowboy?"

Larabee gave a cocky grin and hopped off of the cart to thrust his club into the bag. "I say to hell with this…let's go play pool!"

JD happily put down his phone and got in the driver's seat of the cart he was sitting on. "I'm all for that."

Nathan nodded and put his club up as well. "This is ok, but think we shoulda started with just nine holes. Eighteen is pretty much for a beginner."

Josiah looked undecided, but after looking at his score, he threw his putter into the back of the golf cart he and Nathan were using and tore up his card, destroying the dismal record.

"What the hell…ain't doin' nothin' except try my patience and embarrass myself here. Might as well go do that at pool where I can at least drown my sorrows in a beer while I play."

Buck looked at the women standing next to him. "How about it, darlin's? Can I buy you lovely ladies a beer?" He gave his best 'animal magnetism' smile. "I'm a member of a country club, ya know…country music is what I love…" Dark brows bobbed up into his hairline as he quoted an old Travis Tritt song.

Amazingly enough the pair laughed at the line and nodded in agreement. Wilmington hopped up in their cart and put a long arm around each one's shoulders while the taller one drove.

Vin was already in the cart he shared with Chris, Larabee in the driver's spot while Tanner slouched down in the seat and put his feet up on the dash, a pleased smile on his face. Chris cocked one eyebrow at Standish as the smaller form stood there with a look of confusion.

"What just happened here?"

Chris grinned and Vin gave a wink at the befuddled man.

"We tried it your way, Ez. Now it's time to go be ourselves. You comin'?" asked Larabee softly.

"We're goin' to the Saloon?" asked Standish in bemusement. "Without finishin'?"

Larabee nodded.

Realizing that he'd be left on the back part of the course without transportation if he refused, Ezra gave a resigned sigh and pushed Vin over to make room on the seat.

"Very well. And I suppose thinking on it, that eighteen holes was too much to expect from you gentlemen on the first attempt. We can remedy that the next time we come…"

At the chorus of theatrical groans that enveloped him, he just shrugged. The elegant hands then rubbed together as Chris took off, leading the small cavalcade back to the clubhouse.

"So would any of you care to place a wager on who gets hit on the head with a pool ball and how many times Mr. Sanchez scratches…?"

By DMA


End file.
